By Daniela Hernandez

Her dad smiled to himself. Fiery. Just like her mother. He pressed his daughter closer to him and walked out into a swirling storm of silver. Shivering slightly, he walked on. Soon, however, Annalise cried out from the cold. Her eyes opened, revealing evergreen eyes. A pang shot through his heart. Oh, Anna.

He kept walking, rocking Annalise back and forth, trying to hush her. “I’m sorry I brought you out here, love,” he said to his daughter. “But you have to meet mommy.” Like magic, Annalise stopped crying. He continued talking about the light of his life.

“I met your mother in a rather odd way. She was protesting the war and the cops came. She ran for her life and found me, a rather fortunate bystander with a motorcycle. She hopped in, her ebony hair a mess and her lipstick smudged. She yelled at me to drive and so I did.” As if little Annalise understood, a smile formed on her lips. She had the same smile as her mother. And the same eyes. And that same button nose, now tinged rouge from the cold.

“In our first date your mom, Annalise, dragged me to a waterfall. She dared me to jump, and when I refused, she pushed me.” He laughed softly, remembering that smug smirk of hers. “She was wild. And bright. And colorful. A firecracker of infinite colors and bright red lips, Annalise. She was mine, and I was hers.”

Pain tore through him as he walked into the graveyard and found the headstone he knew would always be there from now on.

Annalise Markey

1989 – 2017

Beloved daughter, wife, and mother.

“Say hi, Annalise,” he murmured softly to his daughter. Little Annalise cried out. His father sighed and got out a bottle for his baby. He placed the warm milk against her lips and his wife’s killer happily sucked on it.